


Hard Practice, Tired Mind

by harpenly (orphan_account)



Category: K-pop, SHINee
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/harpenly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho really, <i>really</i> likes Taemin's long hair, those pants, and the way he looks at him in the mirror. I mean, he <i>really</i> likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Practice, Tired Mind

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: so, this is my first ever SHINee fic, and it happens to be smut, but whatever. c: 2min is precious, and taemin is a minx. I really hope everyone enjoyed it. Thank you for reading!

There was something about the long, coppery strands of Taemin’s hair that made Minho’s eyes follow his movements. He danced behind him, watching the flow and whip of the loose hair pulled up into a messy ponytail and nearly forgot his own damn choreography.

And his name.

He forced himself to look away, focus on his movements in the mirror, the music in his chest, but without fail, he watched him.

He watched Taemin’s girlish hips move with the music, roll against the beat, and it made Minho’s mouth dry and water at the same time, and he felt his fingers curl into fists.

He chalked it up to the heat, and bright lights of their practice room and the sweat on his body.

It was just lack of proper hydration.

When the song ended, the younger cast Minho a dry glance as he drank from his water bottle, plastic crackling under his fingertips, sitting down against the wall. His thighs splayed, bent at the knees, arm resting on his knee.

Minho just gave him a smile— weak and tired and he tried his hardest not to watch him.

But his smile just wasn’t weak and tired, it was weak and tired and so sexually frustrated and full of pent up everything.

Minho didn’t let all that slip into the expression.

He took a much needed drink or four of water, double Adams apple bobbing slightly with each swallow.

Minho watched Taemin’s reflection in the full wall of mirrors. He watched his pale fingers pick and pull at the threads that crossed the rips that lined his thighs. His skin was white and creamy and unmarked and perfect.

So perfect.

Key rolled his feline eyes, and he brushed a strand of stray hair from his forehead with an almost agitated flick of his wrist, "Are you coming back with us?"

Barely hearing him, Minho gave a slight shrug and he watched the maknae. His hands looked so good curled around the bottle—

He knew what else his hands would look good around—did look good around, and he swallowed down the thought.

"Suit yourself, air-head." Key snorted, and tugged along Jonghyun, who gave a laugh as he left.

He didn’t even hear the door shut.

“I know why you stayed behind, hyung.” Taemin brought his eyes up to watch Minho in return.

He felt his breath catch in his throat.

“I needed to practice some more. _You’re_ the one who has all the choreography down perfectly.” Minho replied quickly, but didn’t look to the younger boy, who had stood up.

“I think you know why I stayed behind.” Taemin laughed softly, blunt teeth biting down on his rounded bottom lip.

“Tell me, then. If you know so much.” Minho finally looked up at the boy, who was standing in front of him now, hip cocked so slightly.

Taemin lowered himself until his thighs were spread around Minho’s waist, black jeans straining against the stretch of the material. He pressed a soft kiss to the warm, underside of Minho’s strong jaw.

Exhaling, Minho’s hands curled around Taemin’s hips and he couldn’t help but watch their clear reflections in the mirror.

“You always get like this when my hair is this long.” Taemin whispered, mouth against his ear and he was enjoying the power he held over the older, taller, stronger man.

“That’s a lie.” Minho laughed softly, fingers pushing into Taemin’s back pockets, kneading against his ass, feeling him jump in surprise. It brought a grin to his lips.

“Is not.” He nipped at the shell of his ear, whispering hot, making the older jump in return.

“I think it’s these jeans.” Minho let his hands smooth down Taemin’s thighs, voice rougher than usual, dragging against the creamy skin, fingers pushing under the rips.

With Taemin’s mouth moving against the skin of his neck, teeth not marking, but still sucking his skin, Minho was getting a little heavy lidded and anxious. He let their mouths connect for more than a few breathless minutes, tongues warm and soft and their teeth clicked together.

“Hey,” Minho breathed, pulling away after Taemin nearly moaned into his mouth.

“Mmh,” The younger glanced up at him through his eyelashes, chest rising and falling with each quick breath. “Hey.”

Awkwardly shifting their position, so that Taemin was flush against the floor on his back, watching Minho with widened eyes, but a coy smile on his lips, he arched his back up, creating no space between their stomachs, and Taemin tried so hard to roll his hips into Minho's to create some of the friction and the _heat_ that he was craving.

No such luck.

“You’re beautiful.” Minho whispered, and he wasn’t even sure if he said that out loud, but apparently he did because the boy in mention laughed, and he could _hear_ his eyes rolling.

Long fingers unfastened the ripped jeans that Minho loved so _fucking_ much, he let Taemin shimmy his hips to work the pants down his body.

Color rose to the olders face, and he watched Taemin’s lithe, dancers body with a darker gaze, hooded eyes and kiss-reddened lips. “You aren’t wearing anything under these.” He whispered.

He thought his voice cracked.

Minho didn’t understand _why_ Taemin could make him like this. A nervous, fumbling mess even though they’d done this so many times before. He steadied his hands as they slid down his thighs and the smooth expanse of his calves.

“There’s no way I can.” Taemin gave a light laugh, arching his hips up again to help Minho with the task of ridding him of the jeans.

After working the younger out of the pants that really shouldn’t be considered pants, Minho lifted off his shirt, a light colored blue and green cotton blend, and he let it fall to the floor.

Now that Taemin was completely naked under him, Minho couldn’t stop staring.

“You’re _beautiful_.” He whispered, and the hand that wasn’t palm flat against the hardwood floor was ghosting down his body.

Instead of his usual eye roll and snide reply, Taemin blushed. Red and pink and every color in between colored his cheeks and neck and chest and he watched Minho. “I hate that we can’t do this back at the dorm.” He whispered back to him.

“I know…” Minho murmured, starting to kiss down his thin, bird boned chest that was rising and falling almost rapidly now. “I’m sorry we can’t have any privacy…”

“This is okay, though-ah-” Taemin gasped when the olders mouth closed over the pink, now hardened bud of his nipple and rolled it against his tongue. “Ahh…”

The sounds that Taemin made were always so _perfect_ to Minho. Each noise was light and breathy an each moan was full bodied and loud.

Even though Minho loved that Taemin got so fucking loud when they were pushing and moving together and he missed the claw marks on his back and the teeth indentions that would soon be on his neck, he knew that they would have to keep quiet.

They couldn't risk getting caught.

Moving his mouth down his chest, over his flat stomach, and his fingers traced down his arms, and then waist. His mouth, warm and soft, kissed across the inside of the boy’s thigh, making his hips arched so slightly.

“Hyung…” He closed his eyes against the bright lights of the studio, and his fingers eased themselves into Minho’s dark hair, curling around the strands. He could see spots behind his eyelids from the too-bright lights, and he gritted his teeth, molars against molars.

Teeth and tongue against the inside of Taemin’s thigh, Minho smiled against his skin and nipped the swell of his hip. “Yes?” He murmured into his leg, glancing up at the boy.

Holy _fuck_ , he was so gorgeous.

Lips parted with another soft moan, and his hips were arching for friction that he hadn’t received yet, and his fingers tightened in his hair, forcing his mouth back to his skin, against the juncture of his thigh and groin.

“Minho…” Taemin whispered then, and his bare toes curled. “Please—”

Tongue pushing past his lips, he pressed the tip to his hip and dragged it across his skin to the base of his cock, causing a loud reaction that Minho hadn’t planned for.

Begging always got Taemin where he wanted to be.

Taemin’s voice bounced around the large room, thighs tight against Minho’s head, begging for more with his body. “Please, please…” His voice was breaking and he _needed_ the feeling of his hot, wet mouth against his skin more than he needed air in his lungs, even though he was gasping and he couldn't get a good, solid breath.

First, he returned to his hip, sucking a dark bruise into his pale, flawless skin, nipping and licking and abusing the site.

“Oh—” Taemin let out a strangled, soft moan that seemed to catch in his throat, "H-hyung..."

Mouth finally circling around his cock, Minho let his tongue curl and press and drag so slowly across his feverish skin, making the boy _tremble_.

It was amazing how violently he would shake at the first contact from his lips and tongue.

Thighs quivering and his fingers were pulling Minho’s hair from the roots, and Taemin was panting as he watched the lights now, seeing spots and stars and it was fucking brilliant. Hot and he couldn't breathe and this was just the way he liked it.

“So good,” He whispered to him, voice catching in his throat and it broke on the two syllables.

Throat relaxing around Taemin, the black haired boy swallowed around him and hummed low, the sound reverberating sofuckinggood against his overly sensitive skin.

Crying out, and Taemin’s spine arched up higher, the angle drastic, he resist his urge to buck, and buck his hips into his mouth because fuck he needed more.

"Please don't stop--"

Minho’s long fingers pushed up his thin chest, and rolled the hardened numbs between his fingertips and absolutely adored how the boy under him _shook_ and how his voice rose higher and higher.

Keeping quiet was the last thing on his mind.

Sucking hard and then popping his lips off of him with a small sound, Minho watched Taemin writhe and squirm on the floor and he was fisting his own long hair, rolling his hips into Minho's because he was getting too far gone to stop now, and Minho knew this.

“I s-said _don’t_ stop,” He cried out, arching into his hands, “Why did you _stop_?”

“Just wanted to look at you for a second,” Minho replied in a roughened voice, eyes dark as they roamed over his curved body, fingers twisted into his own coppery hair and he looked so wanton and needy, and fuck he couldn't get enough of his dancers body, and his voice when he moaned and cried out his name and when he--

The sight alone turned Minho on more than anything he had seen before.

“Tell me what you want, Taemin-ah.” He whispered against the crook of his neck, lips abusing the skin, no longer caring about marks and the stares he would receive, mind too hazy to think of anything other than _Taemin, Taemintaemintaemintaemin_.

"You _know_ what I want--" Voice breaking off with a soft crack and it fell from his lips, teeth biting down on them.

“But I want you to tell me…” He prompted him, dark laugh and all.

The sound sent shivers ripping up and down Taemin’s curved and arched spine, and his toes curled harder, and _fuck_ Minho for doing this to him. Making him say aloud exactly what he needed.

“Just, ah-” He panted and started to tell him but he chickened out at the last minute or maybe his pride took over, and he very nearly growled out, “Dammit hyung, _you know what I want_."

Taemin roughly pulled Minho's head up by his dark hair in his fist and he crashed their mouths together, and the kiss was all lips and teeth and _fuck_ it felt so good to have their mouths finally pressed together like this.

He loved tasting himself on Minho's tongue.

Reciprocating with the kiss, Minho let his fingers lock into Taemin's soft hair, tugging down on the strands and it made him gasp open-mouthed against their kiss, and then teeth were on Minho's bottom lip. He felt heat shoot down his limbs and his fingers burned and his chest was on fucking _fire_.

His clothes felt like they were burning up and he broke the kiss, regretfully, and he pulled his shirt over his head, and his fingers, shaking a little, were working on his jeans.

He fumbled the button when he glanced up and saw Taemin's dark eyes watching him, a coy smile on his pink, kiss-abused mouth.

Taemin no longer seemed so embarrassed, and his smirk only widened, head tilted to expose his neck, marks and all. His skin looked empty without the red splotches of color that were patterned across his body. His chest and thighs and hips and neck.

"I know what I want." He murmured, lips barely moving, voice low and soft.

The silken sound was pure heat as it hit his ears, and Minho fought back a groan, because he was already painfully hard inside his jeans and Taemin was making everything _all_ kinds of difficult.

"Yeah?" Minho asked, and he hoped that his voice wasn't really as rough as it sounded to him.

Blunt, white teeth on his bottom lip, "You."

_Oh._

_Fuck._

Minho worked out of his pants, the loose material puddled on the cool floor in a matter of moments. He grabbed the boys wrist, pulled him up into a sitting position and crashed their lips together again.

This time the kiss was sloppy and rushed, instead of the earlier teasing, expert one. Rolling tongues and biting teeth.

Minho explored Taemin’s mouth and he sucked at his tongue, and pushed them together, and he was nearly panting into his mouth, because he was so ready to get this going...

“Taemin-ah…” He whispered, lips on the corner of his mouth, and the nipped across his jaw and down his neck, across his delicate shoulders.

He could taste sweat on his skin.

He wanted more sweat on his skin and against his mouth.

Minho wanted to _taste_ him.

Taemin, nails locked against Minho’s back, digging jagged, crescents into his skin, sighed out as his head tipped back.

“Hyung…”

“You want me?” Minho asked, one hand splayed and flush against the small of the boys back, pushed him into position on his lap, thighs splayed around him.

“Yes—” Taemin whispered, and he did.

Both of them weren't sure why, but it always started out heated, went slower and delved into something more sensual, but then sped up again.

Taemin could feel his heart in his throat, his head and pounding through his fingertips.

He felt the hot press of fingers against his mouth, and Taemin took the initiative to suck them, tongue loving the sensitive skin.

_Fuck._

Minho’s fingers were wet, and he snaked his long arm around Taemin’s slight waist, and teased his index finger so gently against his entrance, which made the boy make _beautiful_ sounds.

“ _Oh_ — t-this is what I want—” He stammered out, brows knotted down in concentration, teeth on his lips.

“Yeah?” Minho breathed against the crook of his neck and he pushed his finger into his body, tight and hot and perfect.

Soft moans fell from his lips, and he felt his heart stutter in his chest, fluttering wildly, and he wanted _moremoremore_.

“Minho,” He gave a hoarse whisper, and he tipped his head back, “I don’t want it slow.”

Pushing his index finger into him, watching his face screw up into a beautiful expression of pleasure and surprise, Minho wet his lips with an eager tongue.

Hips rolling back down against Minho’s finger, another sharp moan was punctuated by his nails on his biceps.

Shallow thrust of his wrist and Taemin was panting out his name, begging for more, because oh he needed it.

Second finger added with a slow sense of delicate ease, Minho watched and /felt/ how Taemin reacted to this intrusion.

“Oh— yesyes…” He choked out through a moan and he canted his hips down into his hand, and Minho thrusted his fingers into him on cue.

He bucked back down, rocking into him now. It was slow and harsh and with a sense of rhythm that his body naturally possessed.

The space between the two was filled with heavy pants and sighs and gasps, and the _moaning_ was enough to drive Minho over the edge.

Taemin’s thighs were tightening around Minho’s body with each movement and twist and curl of his fingers.

Rubbing the pads of his fingers against the inner walls of Taemin’s body and he felt him _crumble_ into him, open mouth on his shoulder.

“ _Minho_!” He cried out, voice breaking on the harsh sound and he pushed back again, again and again.

"Fuck it," Minho all but growled out then, the sound resonating in his chest as he pulled his fingers from the boy’s body and left him feeling so empty.

He spat into his palm and for the first time, he touched himself, slicking his cock and he nearly shuddered at the direct and sudden attention. Minho hissed out when his fingertips brushed the too-sensitive head, smearing precum.

Taemin was _whimpering_ in his ear as he pushed his head into his body, still a tight stretch, and the smaller boy broke. His voice broke, and he broke, and his nails broke the skin of Minho's biceps, and the pain felt so fucking good that he couldn't even begin to see--

“Yah, Minho,” Key snapped two fingers in front of his doe eyes, bending slightly at the waist. “Pay _attention_ , will you?”

_Oh fuck._

Throat and pants and fists tight, Minho looked up into Key's gracefully sloped eyes, "W-what did you say?" He stammered out, voice low and rough. He attempted to clear it.

“We’re going back to the dorm,” Jonghyun explained, motioning to himself, Key, and Onew, who was re-lacing up his shoes on the floor. “You coming or not? Or do you wanna space out some more?"

“Taemin-ah, you’ll come back with us, right?” Key asked, smiling at the younger.

“I don’t think so, hyung. I was going to stay and work a little bit more.” Taemin smiled up at him, pushing the coppery hair from his almond eyes.

Minho shook his head at Jonghyun, then. “I think I’ll just, um, keep Taemin some company. I could always use a little more practice too.” He laughed it off, even though his voice still felt strange in his own mouth.

“So could you.” Key poked Jonghyun in the middle of his chest, bow lips turned up into a smirk.

“I’m flawless.” He replied with a cheeky grin, shouldering his bag and walking out the large double doors with Key and Onew in toe.

“See you back at the dorm! Work hard!” Onew called over his shoulder, a grin lighting up his face, and he jogged to catch up with the other two.

Minho took a moment before he lifted his eyes to watch the boy across the room from him, and he was smirking. It made his blood run hot and cold, ice and heat in his veins at the same time.

_FUCK._

"Keep me company?" He asked the older, and his voice was smug.

"I thought you might enjoy it." Minho replied, head tilted and he was disappointed at the lack of marks on Taemin's smooth, perfect neck.

"Oh, _hyung_." Taemin batted his eyes, and his teeth were on his full bottom lip, ever the tease, "I always enjoy it."


End file.
